The Complete Roderick (17 page)

Pa smiled. ‘Don’t let Ma hear you using words like that. She don’t care much for TV talk,
zilch
and all.’

‘So I don’t,’ said Ma, coming in through a cloud of Mayflies. ‘I don’t even like the expression TV, tedious voice, truncated vision, turning the whole blessed world into morons, teleological void – My! Look at all the wingèd green fairies in here!’

Ma showed him how to paint, or at least she showed him the paper and the colours and told him stories while he tried them out. Roderick worked away to the story of the cigarette girl who loved a bullfighter:

‘Once she’d been a real girl, you see, but a wicked magician turned her into tobacco and Sir Walter Raleigh took her back to Spain. She languished four hundred years in a deep dark dungeon while her lover searched all over Louisiana …’

He produced a small purple square in the middle of the great white sheet of paper. His second painting was the same, but smaller.

‘Minimalist, eh? Interesting, but hmmm. … I think you need to look at other people’s work a little, now where was I? Oh yes, every night he knelt before her picture and asked the gods to help find her. And the kneeling made his knee wear out, so he had to keep this banjo on it all the time, there’s another song about that too …’

Windows were better than TV. There was always something going on. At first he’d been afraid to sit by the back window
because of the dangerous plants, friggin’ violets in pots that might break any minute and anyway looked like hairy tarantulas.

But all the windows had action: the mailman bringing bills, a car breaking down and getting a tow from the white truck (
C-L-E-M-’-S
spelled Clem’s Body Shop), old Violetta Stubbs walking her cat, Dr Smith swearing at his wife as he ran out and jumped in his blue car, a dog peeing on a maple tree, (trees make
W-O-O-D
which is just like Ma’s and Pa’s name but not like
would you
like to hear the story of Zadig the engineer?), and one day a big deal when the sheriff and two men from the County Hell Department came to take away the big toilet and Ma called them Phyllis Teens and Pa said would they like to take away the bill for that skullchair too, and Ma cried and said what was wrong with a bird-bath for rooks anyway, and Pa shouted and Dr Smith came out and laughed and Pa shouted at him too and said he’d like to kill a hundred Phyllis Teens if somebody would give him a dentist’s jawbone.

But the best part of windows was that you could go right outside and be in the picture yourself.

‘Sure it’s okay,’ said Pa. ‘The kid knows his name and address, he knows he must
not
go out in the street. Why not?’

‘Yes of course. A boy or girl needs fresh air and sun – though there are a few ferocious dogs in town. But of course he must. Of course.’

But from the back yard, Roderick could see their anxious faces peering at him through the friggin’ violets. They watched him rake a stick along the ground, stop to examine a petrified dog turd, dig a tiny hole (which he tried to make square) and squint at the sun through a shard of bottle-glass.

After a few days of this, they finally relaxed and let him go unwatched. Unwatched. he relaxed and played.

Pa had told him about this Achilles and this tortoise, a story worth trying out. He was Achilles and a stone was the tortoise:

‘Okay you’re a hundred feet ahead of me when we start the race, only I run ten times as fast as you. Okay now I’ve gone the hundred feet and catched up, only – there – you’ve moved on ten
more feet. Okay now I go ten you go one. Okay now I go one and you go a tenth. Okay now I –’

‘Whatcha doing?’

A small person was following behind him, stopping when he stopped. ‘It’s a game. Like half-ies, only –’

‘Whatcher name?’

‘I’m Roderick Wood. I live at 614 Sycamore Avenue, but I’m not lost.’

‘Ha ha, I’m not lost neither. I’m Judy Smith.’

‘Hello.’

‘Hi. You look dumb to me.’

‘I’m not dumb.’

‘Hahaha, you are so. You’re a dumb dummy and your Pa works at a dumb dummy factory. You don’t know nothing.’

‘I know everything. Almost.’ He thought. ‘I know how to play jess.’

‘Chest, that’s nothing. Can you play hopscotch? Bet you can’t even hop.’ She demonstrated.

‘You’re right, I can’t hop.’ His arms sagged.

‘So you’re nothing but a dumb dummy.’

‘Guess I am.’

‘You don’t know nothing.’

He brightened. ‘
Nobody
knows nothing. Because there ain’t no such thing as nothing. Just half-ies and half-ies …’

‘Let’s play something. Chest maybe. You show me your chest and I’ll show you mine. Like doctors.’

‘Okay I’ll get a board and some pieces –’

‘Naw, come on. I’ll show you.’ She seized his claw and dragged him around the corner of a hedge. ‘Okay, now you be the microelectronic life-support system and I’ll be the chief neurosurgeon …’

When Judy got tired of doctors Roderick went off to explore the rest of the block. On one corner there was a gas station with interesting rainbows in the puddles and men who chased you away.

On another corner there was The Gifte Shoppe, run by Miss Violetta Stubbs. She sold greetings for all occasions, 30 pictures of the President, plates with gold edges saying
NEWER, NEBR, THE
BIGGEST LITTLE TOWN IN THE MIDWEST
, little glass gazelles, hand-lettered cards like those in Pa’s workshop, paper doilies, magnetic pens you could stick to the dashboard of your car, silk scarves (
NEWER, NEBR., THE BIGGEST
etc.) and lots of other stuff, but when she found out you weren’t buying anything she chased you away. On another corner there was a house with a fence and a big dog inside, and on the last corner there was a mailbox and a man standing on one leg.

‘I can stand on one leg longer than you,’ said the man.

‘Sure. I ain’t got no legs.’

‘Oh yeah.’ The man scratched his head (this made him fall over). ‘I can stand on the other leg even longer.’

Roderick extended a claw. ‘My name’s Roderick Wood.’

‘Hi. I’m Louie. They call me Louie Honk-Honk.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m funny in the head I guess. I don’t know. If I knew, maybe I wouldn’t be funny. Hey, sit down why don’t you?’

Roderick said, ‘I can’t sit down.’

‘Can’t sit down! No legs! Heck and darn – I suppose you ain’t got any candy, either?’

‘Nope. Never use it.’

‘Better for your teeth, huh?’

‘No teeth either.’

Louie’s bad teeth showed in the gaping mouth. ‘No teeth! Wow! You’re worser off than me!’

‘But I’m not funny in the head – hey look, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, hey.’

Louie smiled through his tears. ‘Boy I’d like to show ’em! You know what I’d like to do? I’d like to go over to Howdy Doody Lake – you never been there? It’s nice – and I’d pick some flowers and throw them in, see? Then I’d throw some kid in!’

‘Didn’t I see that in this movie, Louie?’

‘Yeah I seen it too. Boy, they wouldn’t think I’m funny then. Only I wouldn’t drownd the kid, I’d pull ’em out again. Because if you drownd somebody that’s murder. They get detectives after you.’ Louie picked his nose, tasted the result. ‘Sometimes I think they got detectives after me anyways.’

‘How come? Did you drownd somebody?’

‘No! Never did! Never did! Only oncet I seen these two men in
front of my house, sitting in this truck, see? Just sitting there, all day. All day long.’

‘I wonder why?’

‘I don’t know.’ After trying the other nostril, Louie said, ‘I wish I was real rich. Real rich. Then I’d pay these detectives to find out stuff for me. To find out – everything. Like what it says in books. And, and how come I’m funny in the head – everything. Ev-er-y-thing!’

That evening Ma and Pa sat at the dining-table, elbow-deep in quadruplicate forms.

‘I didn’t know adoption could be such a tricky business, Mary. Swann says it could take years, too, without no birth-certificate and with the –’

‘Listen to this: “
Item 54. Gross readjusted excludable income not including net excludable tax adjustments included in item 51a”
– what in the world do they mean, including the excludable?’

‘Money’s gonna be a problem too, already cashed my life insurance to pay Swann’s retainer – somebody’s at the door.’

The screen door cracked open and two men stumbled in: Sheriff Benson and Dr Smith. They seemed to be arguing.

‘Now Doc, hold on, you had no right to bust down that door, hold on just hold on.’

‘Getthatmthrfkn – Leggo, leggo!’

Pa said, ‘What is this? You know we never lock that door –’

Dr Smith shook a mottled pink fist.

The sheriff spoke: ‘Half outa his mind, Pa, I’m real sorry about that. Seems he thinks your little uh robot’s been assaulting on his girl Judy.’

‘Roderick? He’s upstairs in the land of recharge – in bed I mean. What do you mean, assaulted?’

Dr Smith grabbed his shirt-front. ‘What the fuck do you think I mean?
That
fucking dirty-filthy machine was out in
your
back yard
this
afternoon, playing slimy sex-games with
my
daughter! Bring him down here! Now! I want the sheriff to see that thing smashed into
a million cock-sucking pieces
!’

The sheriff separated them and forced Smith into a chair. ‘Now sit there and shut up till I find out what happened.’

‘I know what happened, Judy told me what hap –’

‘Button it, Doc.’ Sheriff Benson was a gaunt, weary-looking man with rotten teeth. He sucked them to punctuate sentences.

‘Well we got the report this afternoon. Miz Violetta Stubbs seen what happened from her back porch and called me. I’da been out here sooner only – hey, you know they got a new game show on, Channel 58, this one gal won a Rolls-Royce you know all she had to do –’

‘Get to the point!’ Dr Smith kneaded his fists together.

‘– just name six vegetables, simple, huh? Anyways like I say Miz Violetta seen your little robot and his little Judy playing it looked like doctors. Soooo … wonder if I might have a word with the little uh, okay?’

‘I’ll get him,’ said Ma. ‘Only keep that maniac away from him.’ She went to the stairs and paused. ‘Or her,’ she said.

Benson sucked his teeth. Just what I was thinking. You know, Doc, this case – there ain’t no precedent. I mean, if this robot was a live girl I know you wouldn’t care two hoots, if it was a live boy I guess we could settle it without much fuss too. But this robot ain’t got a sex – has it?’

‘Don’t try to cover up for them, Benny, goddamnit I know what I know. That
thing
–’

‘Sit down, Doc. Now looky here, this thing’s no bigger than a good-sized breadbox – reminds me of a game show where they – no, but look at him. Doc? You want me to prefer assault charges against that bitty thing?’

Ma carried him down. ‘Is it morning? Is hello, Sheriff, did you bring back our toilet?’

‘Set him on the table here Ma, now listen uh son, I want to ask you a coupla questions, you know what the truth is?’

‘Sure like in truth tables, like if you ask me three questions I could answer them eight different wa –’

‘No, well more like Truth or Consequences. Listen, this afternoon, what did you and Judy Smith do out there by the back hedge?’

‘Doctors.’

‘You played doctors? How does it go?’

‘Well you don’t have pieces –’

‘That’s a relief. Go on.’

‘And you just talk mostly about how the radiologist is batty
about some nurse in O.R. Two, she won’t give him a second look though because she’s head-over-heels in love with young Doctor Something who’s been working too hard, two hours sleep in five years he can’t go on like this I tell you, with you it’s always give, give, let Doctor Whatsit carry some of the load sure he’s old and he drinks before surgery –’

‘Fine, but what do you do besides talk?’

‘Well nothing much. She puts it in my hands.’

‘
Sit down, Doc!
Puts what, boy?’

‘Her life. In my hands, my capable hands.’

‘Think we got nothin’ here, Doc, let’s go.’

Dr Smith cursed and yelled incoherently for a moment, then left, carrying before him his swollen, pink, capable hands. The sheriff remained behind a moment.

‘Real sorry about this, folks. Doc’ll pay for the door and all but – well, might be better to make sure we don’t get any more false alarms, okay?’

Pa said, ‘Keep him away from Judy Smith, you mean?’

‘I mean, keep him chained up. Seems to me if he ain’t a boy or a girl and he ain’t exactly a machine, he must be a pet. You get a good strong chain tomorrow, and chain him up.’

Ma shrieked. Pa turned pinker than a dentist’s hands. ‘What the hell, here, Sheriff, look at all these papers – we’re trying to adopt him. He’s our son. You can’t ask us to chain up our own –’

‘I can and I do. You adopt him, maybe we can forget the chain. Until then – that’s an order of my office, chain him up – or else. I catch him loose on the street, takin’ him in to the pound in Belmontane. They might even destroy him.’

Pa and Ma sat up fretting most of the night, but in the morning there was nothing else to do: Pa went to Sam’s Newer Hardware and bought a twenty-foot chain and a padlock. Ma sat weeping by her African violets. ‘Fetters on a baby!’ she said. ‘Paul, how can we do this to him?’

‘At least he’ll be where we can keep an eye on him. He’ll be safe.’

‘Or she will,’ said Ma, blowing her nose. ‘Couldn’t we just let him or her have one last taste of freedom in the front yard? A minute? Half a minute?’

‘Okay, Mary.’ They let him out, watched him gambol (more or less) and then went to fetch the chain. They returned to see a tattooed arm drag him into a car, which slammed its door and screeched its tyres and shot out of sight.

‘Nobody in town’s got a car like that, all colourless,’ said Pa, when he could get his breath. ‘And the licence plate all dusty.’

‘I was afraid of this,’ Ma said. ‘The gipsies have got him.’

The big woman with the wrinkled face kept saying, ‘Jeep, you ain’t got the sense of a dehorn, takin’ some kid’s toy like this.’